


Palm, lifeline, heartline

by lbmisscharlie



Series: White Writing [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbmisscharlie/pseuds/lbmisscharlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Field work's not the same as Peggy gets older.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palm, lifeline, heartline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [what_alchemy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_alchemy/gifts).



> Title from Carol Ann Duffy's "White Writing":
> 
> No laws written to guard you,  
> I write them white,  
> your hand in mine,  
> palm against palm, lifeline, heartline.

Stooping to tuck her arm around Peggy’s ribcage and underneath her arm, Angie takes slow, measured steps, supporting Peggy’s weight as they work their way to the door. They open it, awkwardly, and maneuver through. Peggy breathes in short, sharp huffs through her nose, teeth gritted together, and Angie wishes momentarily that she weren’t so stubborn and had been willing to take the miraculous pain medication Howard had sent down from New York. 

“It’s glowing green,” Peggy had said, peevishly, from her hospital bed, and Angie had snapped back, “Sounds like all of Howard’s experiments, then, and you don’t seem to have a problem with any of the rest.” It’s not at all fair, but Peggy says nothing, just clenches her fingers – too pale – on the edge of the thin blanket and looks away. 

Angie only leaves the hospital room when Peggy sleeps. She eats at an automat across the street – one of the few left; the L&L closed down in ’58 – sickly sweet pie and sharp, bitter coffee enough to give her the energy she needs to stay awake when Peggy’s feeling good. When she gets back to Peggy’s room and pauses outside the door, watching her partner sleep through the narrow, reinforced glass window, Nurse Olivier stops to look in with her.

“She’s doing real good; she’ll be home in no time.” Angie nods, screwing her eyes tight against the burn of tears that threaten to spill over. “She’s lucky to have you to take care of her,” Olivier says, in an undertone. Angie looks at her; the tone of her voice is full of knowing, and Angie, nods, tightly, in thanks. 

Peggy does come home, after four interminable days, and leans on Angie without complaining, and settles on the sofa at Angie’s insistence. Angie tucks her in, careful of the unwieldy, ugly cast on her leg, and brews up some tea. She sits on the floor next to the sofa, shoes kicked off and feet tucked up, and pours Peggy’s sugar and milk.

Peggy sits up, and sips her tea, and looks less pained. “I’m sorry, Angie,” she says, into the long silence of the room. 

Angie doesn’t say _It’s just your job,_ as she has before. It’s never been this bad before. “It shook me up this time, Pegs. Real bad.” Peggy’s hand, when it cups her cheek, is warm from the tea. 

“I think I need to start picking my missions more carefully,” Peggy says, some hint of dismay in her voice. Angie looks up at her, lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not giving up field work altogether!” 

Angie grits her teeth together. It’s only become a sore subject between them over the past few months, as Peggy’s come home with more aches and minor injuries than before. She’s always worried about her, of course, ever since that first time she discovered Peggy standing on the ledge outside her window like a maniac, and she’s lied her tail off for her more than once – and happily – but she’ll be damned if she’ll have her girl die somewhere in the hinterlands of the USSR just because she’s too damn stubborn to let other agents take a mission. 

Against Angie’s silence, Peggy exhales. “I’ll be more careful,” she says, sounding contrite. “I promise you, I do.” Her hand still rests on Angie’s shoulder; Angie lifts it, kisses the palm. _I do, I do_ : they’ve whispered those words to each other in so many ways, and none of those promises have they broken yet. 

“You’d better,” she says, stern but for the tiny smile she allows. Standing, she fusses with Peggy’s blanket. Peggy lets her. “But for now, you heard the SHIELD doctors; you’re to take leave for no less than two months while your leg heals.” Angie smiles and pushes her hair back away from her forehead where it’s come a little loose. “I’m making dinner, and you’re going to relax and tell me the instant you need something.”

Peggy nods her head, very serious, and, satisfied for the moment, Angie turns toward the kitchen. Before she can leave, Peggy’s hand grasps her wrist. “Come here and kiss me first, you worrywart,” she says, tugging Angie back to her. With a smile, Angie bends and presses their mouths together. Peggy’s hand slips up the back of Angie’s neck, and her lips seems to give thanks, and promises, and love.


End file.
